Scandal In The Boardroom: His by Design / The CEO's Accidental Bride / Secret Baby, Public Affair

Two

Nothing like a new challenge and a gorgeous woman to work with.

Sloan listened to Ziara’s movements in the outer office as he sat at his desk. He’d wondered whether she’d postpone coming in until the last minute, but here she was thirty minutes early, moving into her new office.

Yesterday she’d both confounded and fascinated him. Her exotic, Indian beauty stirred many un-bosslike urges. Her attempts to keep that beauty under wraps teased his senses. Did she think pulling her luxurious dark hair tight into a bun and covering those shapely legs made her a better employee? It probably did in Vivian’s eyes, but Sloan was a whole other matter.

Something she’d learn soon enough, and hopefully enjoy. Though he’d never seduced any of his employees—he spent more time running from than running after—he wasn’t above using this mutual attraction as one more tool to secure control of Eternity Designs. He would need her help to understand how things worked around here, to facilitate his relationships with the other employees after being shut out in the cold since his father’s death. If tempting her loyalty in his direction meant the reports to Vivian became fewer and further between, or even stopped, all the better.

Crossing the room with a heightened sense of anticipation, he eased through without alerting her to his entrance. She stood behind the desk, the chair pushed aside to give her room to reallocate her personal stuff. Her movements were elegant but efficient as she placed pens and papers in the desk drawers. Her careful concentration told him she had a precise way she wanted things and she’d find a way to create order in this new space.

He barely held back laughter as he sized her up. He was a red-blooded male and his body naturally heated despite her choice of clothes. She’d opted for a longer skirt and boxier jacket, as if that would hide the curvy shape of her hips and ass. But it was the scarf he found most amusing. From the back, he could see the curl of material around her neck. Did it merely cover her throat in the front, or had she gone all out to hide every single hint of bare skin, tucking the ends into her jacket?

Didn’t she realize that don’t touch me attitude set her up as his own personal challenge?

“Settling in okay?” he asked.

Her jerk of surprise should have made him feel guilty, but he suspected he had to sneak up on this one before she cut him off at the knees with her stern librarian attitude.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m almost ready.”

“No hurry,” he murmured, tracking the glide of her fingers over a few pictures. No people that he could see, just atmospheric photographs of simple wooden bridges, each in a different season. She arranged them carefully along the top of the nearby shelf, then reached into the remaining cardboard box once more.

Pulling out an object wrapped in cotton batting, she uncovered it layer by layer. She steadily revealed a glass object inscribed with words that she rubbed over a few times with the wrapping.

Too quick for her to stop him, he lifted the object from her hands for a closer look. “What’s this?” he asked.

“Be careful.”

“Ziara, you wound me,” he said with a cheesy helping of drama. “I promise not to drop it.”

The cut-glass award was shaped in the outline of a flowing gown, inscribed with the date and Employee of the Year. Ziara Divan. “Employee of the Year, huh?”

“I’ve worked hard to get where I am.”

“And where is that exactly?”

“If all goes well, I’ll be promoted to Vivian’s personal assistant when Abigail retires next spring.”

“Wow, a full-fledged executive assistant at the tender age of—”

She drew a deep breath, as if he were a toddler trying her patience. “Twenty-seven.”

“So young to be so buttoned-down.” He aimed a pointed look at her scarf, which did indeed drape down to cover that delectable collarbone and upper chest.

“There are worse things to be.”

“Like what?”

For a moment it looked like she would speak, but then those full lips pressed tight. Her hand extended, palm up, and her perfectly manicured fingertips curled in a give it to me gesture. “Behave, please.”

He stepped closer, moving past her invisible keep away signs. “Let’s get something straight here, Ziara. You’re playing by my rules now. I’d imagine I have seriously different requirements for becoming Employee of the Year.”

She swallowed hard. “Excuse me?”

She reached for the award, moving her body even closer to him, and he used the opportunity to snag an edge of the scarf. Luckily for him, it was only loosely twisted and unraveled like a dream from around her neck and into his hands.

Award forgotten, her hands clamped to her bare neckline, then she glared at him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“A little employee training.” He rubbed the material between his fingers but resisted the urge to lift it to his nose and find out if it smelled like her. Vanilla and cinnamon spice. “I’m not nearly as stuffy as Vivian. I don’t run my office that way.”

“Mr. Creighton—”

“Uh-uh. Sloan.”

He was surprised she could talk through teeth that tightly clenched. “Sloan, your behavior is inappropriate in the extreme.”

“Is it? Are you going to charge me with sexual harassment?”

That cool eyebrow lifted in condemnation. “If I have to.”

Her response was so unexpected, he almost choked. Man, he sure enjoyed a woman with spice, but she didn’t need to know that. Yet. “Oh, I don’t think you will.”

She opened her mouth, but he continued on. “I know Vivian gave you this job for a reason.” He leaned even closer to her, watching her heartbeat speed up in the well of her collarbone. “And not just because you’re organized and can turn in paperwork on time. After all, she knows something about assistants and their access to—how can I say this diplomatically—company secrets.”

Not even an attempt at a response this time.

He pushed a little harder. “Isn’t that right, Vivian’s little spy?”

“That’s insulting.”

But she didn’t look insulted. The waver of her gaze and uncertain look meant one thing: guilt. “There’s no point in pretending, Ziara. Vivian put you here to keep an eye on me, and report back everything she needs—or doesn’t need—to know. But that’s okay.”

Her eyes jerked back to his, widening to give him a great view of chocolate irises shot with gold sparks.

“Just remember,” he said, “forewarned is forearmed.”

For long seconds neither of them moved, gazes locked in either a worthy battle or forbidden attraction, he wasn’t sure. All he felt was the blood pumping hard in his veins and an excitement he hadn’t brought to a job in many, many years.

With shaking hands she finally pulled the award from his grasp and turned to place it on the corner of her desk. Then, she pulled out a thick folder from a drawer of the filing cabinet. “Here is information on the current preparations for the fall line. I thought—”

He lifted the file from her unsteady hands, resentment that he had to rely on her for information mixing with the other emotions roiling through him. “What do we have here?”

She managed to maintain an outward calm. Almost. “Actually, I thought you might like me to familiarize myself with the project you’re here for.”

Her eyes begged, a moment of peace, but he wasn’t in the mood for mercy. “Let’s take this discussion into my office.”

* * *

A spy, he’d said. She’d never really thought about it that way.

How had she been promoted from executive assistant in training to spy in one morning? Proving herself to Vivian had been a long-held goal, but doing it now could put her in a very awkward position.

One last glance at her Employee of the Year award stilled her spinning universe. Looking at it, her uneasiness and frustration melted away and her resolve strengthened.

This is what I want. I’m almost there. Becoming executive assistant to the CEO of a major design firm had been her goal from her first day at Eternity Designs. At twenty-seven, the finish line loomed much closer than she’d dared to hope, despite the lack of money for anything other than a trade school degree.

She’d grown up with nothing—no, less than nothing. Oh, they’d technically had enough to live on, but every spare cent had gone for slutty clothes and accessories for her mother to attract the newer, better sugar daddy around the corner.

She’d dreamed of escaping from the trash that still stained her heart into her own office situated right outside of her role model Vivian Creighton’s. But would the price be worth this sacrifice?

Vivian and Sloan are playing a game and I’m stuck in the middle.

Ziara was smart enough to realize it. Her firm loyalty to Vivian notwithstanding, her choices from here on out had to be dedicated to what was best for Eternity Designs. That was her only guarantee of keeping a clear conscience.

Vivian had given her a long lecture on all things Sloan yesterday afternoon. He’s not to be trusted. Why wouldn’t his father have just given him the business if he wanted him to run it? He’s up to something, I know it. Ziara had questions of her own, concerns about a man who spent his life reviving companies but completely ignored his family heritage until it was almost too late. If Sloan truly sought to ruin the company, as Vivian had also suggested...well, she wasn’t about to let him put anything over on her.

She’d just watch closely and learn to deal with him. She’d always been a stellar student. If she hesitated before crossing the threshold into his office, it didn’t mean anything. Drawing in a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders. A little over three months and her training period would be complete. This was simply a small bump on a long road.

She pushed the dilemmas from her mind and entered the room.

Sloan had chosen a corner office at the opposite end of the building from Vivian’s, his windows overlooking the sidewalk and shops that lined the streets in this part of town. Quaint, with a touch of subdued elegance, Ziara had always thought, and easily accessible through a MARTA stop only a few blocks away.

Instead of the soothing cream carpet prevalent in the rest of the offices, the flooring here had been replaced with dark wood planks. A desk just a shade or two darker dominated one corner, facing out so that Sloan could see the entire room, from the door to the floor-to-ceiling windows. He crossed the thick blue-and-burgundy rug to stand before them now, hands in his pockets, looking down from the fifth-story view.

For long moments he remained silhouetted against the lightened windows. His strong shoulders spoke of strength and shelter. The line tapered down to his waist, where his hands in his pockets drew the material of his dress pants across the high, firm cheeks of his backside.

Ziara shook her head slightly, grateful he couldn’t see her. Being close to this overwhelmingly masculine presence on a daily basis had the potential to open up a whole host of dark desires she preferred to keep locked deep inside. Choosing a leather chair a safe distance away, she sat, primly crossing her legs at the ankles. She held herself rigid as she prepared to take notes, make phone calls, whatever he wanted of her.

“Did you know this was once my father’s office?”

Surprise skittered through Ziara’s controlled pose. “No,” she murmured.

“I used to play right here on a rug while he worked,” Sloan said. “I used to watch him stare out these same windows, while he worked out problems.”

His voice was easy, soft with memory. He started to pace, firm steps along the length of the windows. Two glorious views. Candy for her sweet-starved eyes.

But warning lights started flashing through her brain as she thought about his words. She’d never had any type of loving parental relationships, and had cut all ties with her mother at the age of seventeen. But Sloan seemed to feel very passionately about his father, despite Vivian’s insistence that Mr. Creighton had found his son a huge disappointment. Why had Sloan—

No. Thinking about Sloan’s private life—his childhood, wishes, regrets—could not lead to anything good. Personalizing him outside of their business interactions would weaken her objectivity. She had to focus on work, not skipping through fantasyland.

After a minute or two, he clasped his hands behind his back, his long fingers tapping against his palms. “First things first,” he murmured. “Where to start—”

“I’ve got a list here from Mrs. Creighton, and—”

His laughter echoed through the room, the sound truly amused rather than the nasty version she’d heard in Vivian’s office. He paused in his imaginary trek to catch his breath and clutched his chest in mock astonishment. “Surely you jest. I don’t think so, sweetheart. We’ll be doing this my way.”

Well, that’s reassuring. Ziara had a feeling she was about to get a lesson in all things Sloan—and it would turn everything she’d planned for on its ear. She pulled out her handy-dandy tablet to take notes, since that seemed to be her only function here.

“We’ll need new ideas, new designs, definitely a new designer,” he said, his voice so matter-of-fact that she blinked for a moment, unable to handle the transition from sexy hunk to demanding boss that quickly. But she managed to pull herself together.

Then his words truly registered. Yikes! A new designer definitely would not go over well.

Sloan continued. “Something splashy. Something to draw in big buyers, get people talking, get them curious...”

He dropped into the chair behind his desk. “Presenting the line, one buyer at a time in the studio, is standard fare. We need a fireworks show, not a firecracker...I’ve got it!” Sloan jerked to his feet, palms slapping on his desk with enough force to startle her. “We’ll bring fashion week right here to Atlanta, Georgia. We’ll put on a fashion show.” He started to pace, throwing ideas out with such enthusiasm that she found herself pulled into the spirit without even realizing it. Before she knew it, he had location ideas, preshow party ideas, guest list suggestions, and on and on until he ran out of steam about an hour later.

Ziara’s fingers ached from typing so fast; even she had to concede to Sloan’s intelligence. Once he latched onto an idea, he thought through every angle—catch, plus and minus. Very impressive. If he truly had plans to destroy Eternity Designs, he was going about it the wrong way.

Glancing up in the sudden silence, she found Sloan staring directly at her. She should have been alarmed, afraid of what he might see, but she had sunk so deeply under the spell of his voice that she merely floated.

His eyes widened at whatever he saw in her own, then flashed with a heat that echoed deep inside her core. The connection remained taut for long moments as the heat gained momentum like a house afire.

Only when it threatened to burst out of control did Ziara panic. She bent her head to focus on the tablet still sitting in her lap. Though she felt hot enough for her fingers to burn it, the tablet was miraculously unsinged.

A new kind of heat enveloped her—embarrassment. As Sloan approached, her teeth worried her lower lip. Would he say something? Think she’d changed her mind about him? Think that she was silently asking him to come on to her? With her limited experience, she wasn’t even sure what kind of message she’d just sent. As her imagination picked up speed, Sloan paused a few steps away.

Then he continued around his desk and sat with a squeak of leather. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his elbows settle onto the arms of the chair as if familiar with the pose, his fingers forming a peak with his fingertips. Relief swept through her, a cooling breeze, though it couldn’t extinguish the fire altogether. She chose to ignore it.

“So we’ll be putting on a fall fashion show this year. You’ll need to book the venue and start construction on the backdrop. Some plans can’t be finalized until closer to the actual date, but pick out invitations, contact the modeling agency so we can line up models, all that stuff.”

He leaned forward, his gaze seeing into the distance. “My focus will be on finding the right designer to carry out my ideas.”

That was a discussion she’d prefer to postpone for, oh, forever. A new designer would shake the foundations of Eternity, regardless of how wonderful he was.

“And what would those ideas be?” she asked, poised to type. How was she going to tell Vivian all of this? Ziara was excited by some of the plans, but change was definitely not Vivian’s forte.

Sloan grinned, resorting to his ample sex appeal in the blink of an eye. “Uh-uh. I’m not giving it up that easily.”

Their eyes met and held. In the aftermath of their earlier connection, his bright blue gaze unnerved her more than ever. Not only did it threaten her internal control, it made her want to clamp the top of her jacket closed to hide every hint of cleavage. She pressed her thighs together in a purely feminine gesture of defense.

Slowly he rose and circled the desk, leaning his hips against the front. The angle allowed him to tower over her, while inadvertently giving her a level view of—

No, she wouldn’t look. Her fight-or-flight instincts kicked in with a rush. She needed a few moments away from this man’s disturbing sensuality. Heck, a few hours would be better. Rising to her feet, she said, “If that’s all, I’ll start—”

“Ziara.”

Her fingers fiddled with her tablet while her gaze examined the polished floorboards.

“I expect hard work out of all my employees. I don’t think that will be a problem with you. But trust...trust has to be earned, doesn’t it?”

The guilt burned deep inside, because she knew she’d have to tell what she’d learned to Vivian—sooner rather than later. But it was her strong work ethic that just might tear her in two. Her dedication demanded she do what was right for Eternity Designs; her loyalty demanded she do anything Vivian asked of her.

“Though hiring and firing is Vivian’s department for now,” he continued, his voice deceptively benign, “be aware you wouldn’t be in this office if I didn’t want you to be.” He stopped an arm’s length from her, bringing the icy heat of his gaze closer, stinging her conscience. “You have your own reasons for being loyal to Vivian.”

She heard the implied question behind his statement. She swallowed, the urge to speak unnerving. How could she describe all Vivian had done for her, the hands-on coaching and molding of her abilities? She opted for short and sweet.

“Vivian saw my willingness to do a job right, even as a simple secretary. To uphold the ideals of this company.”

“Where tradition and style forever align,” Sloan murmured.

A slight smile tugged her lips. Her chin lifted. She knew her intentions here were right, no matter what anyone else thought. Pride in her hard work, in pulling herself up from the bottom rung of the ladder, refused to let him condemn her loyalties. “Yes.”

Sloan stepped even closer. The urge to retreat exploded in her belly. Her muscles jumped to high alert, tightening in preparation for flight.

“I, too, value hard work, initiative and loyalty.” He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. “Just don’t forget who you work for now.”

The pressure of his stare proved too much with Vivian’s expectations still flashing neon in Ziara’s brain. Her gaze fell, grazing his fit body to the tips of his Gucci dress shoes. A short nod was all she could manage.

She wasn’t likely to forget anything about Sloan.

Still, the need to push back rose. “Wanting to uphold the values of this company isn’t a bad thing. After all, it is the way your father wanted this business run.” She ignored the twinge of her conscience. The truth hurt. This time, she leaned closer to him. “People other than you are allowed to care about this place, you know.”

Something flashed across his face that she couldn’t quite read, but it encouraged her to push harder. Not for Vivian. Not for her job. For Eternity Designs. “If you would just tell me what you’re trying to do here instead of leaving me in the dark, then maybe I could help.”

He met her halfway, crowding into her personal space with a sexy grin. “You’ll have to try harder than that to access my...secrets.”

Three

Sloan took a deep breath and wrestled with his libido for a moment before managing to lock it down. How could the simple sounds of Ziara at her desk turn him into a dirty old man? Well, not quite old, if the level of urgency he felt was anything to go by.

They had a long day ahead—he was pretty sure she was going to hate him by the time he was done, but as the saying went, he had to get rid of the old to make room for the new.

He would need Ziara’s help to carry out his plans without permanent damage. Robert and Anthony were indeed good designers, but designers who needed a serious shake-up. Vivian had offered Ziara for her expertise and he planned to conquer a large portion of his new territory today.

After a moment of silence, Ziara peeked around the door. “Do you need me for anything this morning, Mr. Creighton?”

Oh, honey, I need you for something really bad. Even though it was totally inappropriate, he couldn’t tame the thought. Once again Ziara was wrapped in a narrow skirt and suit jacket, although this one was a dark chocolate-brown that complemented her eyes, bringing out the golden flecks with a glimpse of a silky gold camisole. A little better, though seeing her abundant hair pinned to the nape of her neck just made his hands itch to let it all loose.

He shifted in his seat. “I’ve got a full agenda today. Where do we stand so far?”

Ziara’s efficiency impressed him. Not only had she started contacting people and places yesterday, she’d made a detailed list of the facts so he could compare easily and make decisions.

Old business out of the way, he straightened his shoulders, preparing to face the hardest part of the day. “Let’s take a trip down to the design floor and see what’s what with the Old Brigade.”

The Old Brigade was the employees’ term for the two main designers who headed and vetted all the dress designs for the company. Though by no means original, they’d each been with the company for over fifteen years.

Ziara hesitated, frozen for a moment like a deer caught in headlights at dusk; then she gathered her tablet and smoothed down her skirt.

He let her maintain her silence as they crossed into the hall, but he couldn’t afford for her to hold back. Everything might as well be out in the open.